


The Struggles and Triumphs of Love

by rose_elizabeth_3



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Injured Draco Malfoy, Injured Hermione Granger, Paralysis, Slow Burn, Supportive Narcissa Black Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:00:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26173849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_elizabeth_3/pseuds/rose_elizabeth_3
Summary: Both Draco and Hermione have been thrust into unknown waters. While Hermione is gravely injured and separated from Harry and Ron, Draco attempts to save his mother from the wrath of his father. Both Hermione and Draco must face their demons together and hope that love does indeed triumph all.Disclaimer - I don't own anything
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20





	1. 23rd March 1998 - Hermione

6.30pm 23rd March 1998

Full of joy, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat around the fire grinning as Lee Jordan signed off from Potterwatch. After months of the run, it was refreshing and exhilarating to hear that those they loved were still safe and fighting back.  
Unfortunately, the news that Voldermort was overseas had Harry’s mind whirring and only seem to fuel his obsession with the Hallows. Despite Hermione’s attempt to dissuade him, he began to get more passionate and excited.

“Come on Hermione, why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol—“  
“HARRY, NO!”  
“—demort’s after the Elder Wand.”  
“The name’s Taboo!” Ron bellowed, leaping to his feet as a loud crack sounded outside the tent. “I told you, Harry, I told you, we can’t say it any more — we’ve got to put the protection back around us — quickly — it’s how they find —“  
But Ron stopped talking, and Hermione knew why. The Sneakoscope on the table had lit up and begun to spin; they could hear voices coming nearer and nearer: rough excited voices. Ron pulled the Deluminator out of his pocket and clicked it: their lamps went out. Hermione’s heart dropped, her mind began working, desperately trying to think of a possible escape plan.  
“Come out here with your hands up!” came a rasping voice through the darkness. “We know you’re in there! You’ve got half a dozen wands pointing at you and we don’t care who we curse.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione stared at each other in panic. The darkness from Ron’s deluminator had given them a seconds advantage and in that time Hermione grabbed her beaded bag, wrenching the invisibility cloak from it and throwing it over them. Huddled together under the cloak they silently crept out of the tent and behind the snatchers. Hermione tried to stay as calm as she could, despite the ever-increasing feeling of panic.  
Stifling a gasp, she saw Fenrir Greyback, amongst others enter the tent and heard them rummaging through it, searching for the occupants.  
Grasping onto Harry and Ron’s arms, Hermione spun around in an attempt to apparate and was instead met with a sharp stinging sensation. Her heart plummeted, the snatchers had put anti-apparition wards up around the surrounding area to prevent any chance of escape. Next second she heard Greyback snarl “they’re gone!” and a whispered incantation of “point me.” 

“Run” Hermione whispered to Harry and Ron and all three of them took off, hoping to put as much distance between the snatchers and themselves as possible. Despite the fear and adrenaline pumping through her, Hermione knew that they would be no match for Greyback. Her lungs were aching as she desperately tried to think of an escape route. Hurtling through the trees, Hermione saw Harry whip out a bent metal spoon, the emergency portkey Hermione had created for him a few weeks ago that would take them to Shell Cottage. Hermione almost pumped the air with joy at Harry’s uncharacteristic quick and logical thinking. As she and Ron began to get closer to Harry he deactivated the portkey giving them just 10 seconds to get hold of it. Just as Hermione reached a hand out for the spoon, she heard a muffled cry from Greyback, and not a moment later a terrible piercing pain shot down the backs of her legs. She had never felt agony like it. The pain almost blinded hermione as she let out a wail and collapsed. Through her piercing screams, she heard the terrified and frantic shouts of Harry and Ron as they watched as she writhed on the ground, helpless before they vanished alongside the portkey.

Hermione lay whimpering on the leaves as the snatchers slowly gathered around her. Her heart was thudding loudly in her ears as she desperately tried to control her breathing and stay calm. Hermione could hear them plotting what to do with her, when she felt a hand reach down next to her, grab her wand and snap it in half. Hermione let out a moan of desperation. All hopes of escape were crushed as the only thing that could possibly save her was broken beyond repair.

“Should we just kill her, or do you want to take her with us?” she heard the snatcher who had taken her wand ask Greyback. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, not sure which option would be worse. Deep down she knew she would rather die than be taken and consequently broken by the snatchers. “With the curse I shot at her, I can’t imagine her lasting more than a few hours at best, might as well leave her here to rot… You lads clean out the tent and I’ll make sure she isn’t hiding anything valuable.”  
Through her panicked gasping, Hermione heard the rest of the snatchers walk away, and then recoiled as she smelt Greyback as he leered in her face. “Well girly, you’re lucky I prefer blondes. Though lucky isn’t the word I’d use to describe you, what with the curse you’ve been hit with.” Hermione groaned as he aimed one last kick at her head and sauntered off towards the tent. She desperately hoped that they wouldn’t spot the sword, so that if Harry and Ron managed to find their way back they would still be able to continue the hunt for Horcruxes.

Heart racing Hermione began plotting what she would do once the snatchers were gone. If only she had grabbed the second emergency portkey from the tent before they left…at least she might be able to drag herself to the tent and get it once the snatchers had left. However, her thoughts of escape were disrupted by shouts from the snatchers. Hermione lifted her head to see the tent go up in flames and the snatchers disappear with a crack. Letting out a devastating cry she dropped her head back and burst into tears as she let the reality of her hopeless situation overwhelm her.

She now had no wand, and the tent had gone up in flames and taken all the food, emergency portkeys and medical supplies with it. Hermione could feel herself slowly sinking into despair as all hope was lost. She began to think of Harry and Ron, and with her newfound determination, she began to think of a new plan.

With shuddering sobs, from both the terrible pain in her legs and the overwhelming situation, Hermione pulled herself up and looked around. It was almost pitch dark. Large shadows were cast across the forest floor from the bright light of the moon. Her head was throbbing and the burning sensation in her legs had only worsened. She tried to recall what spell had been cast, but she had only heard a muffled shout as she was hit from behind. Hermione knew that she couldn’t reverse the spell if she didn’t know what it was, so instead, she tried to think of some sort of way to ease the pain.

With a jolt, Hermione realised that she had been carrying her beaded bag when they had hastily left the tent. Blindly reaching her hands out she rummaged around in the leaves trying to locate it. Using her remaining strength, Hermione dragged herself along the ground, back in the direction she had been running. Not 30 seconds later, she felt the tassels of her bag and dragged it towards her. Unfortunately, her fall had meant that the contents of the bag (of which there were many thanks to the undetectable extension charm placed on it) had all rolled around. With a groan of frustration, Hermione thought how easy it would be if only she had her wand.  
A sharp jolt in her right leg prompted Hermione to stick her hand into the bag, desperately searching for her first aid supply. Although she knew that the supply in her bag was rather basic (as the rest was in the tent) Hermione knew it would be better than nothing. After a good 5 minutes of rummaging around in the bag, she yanked out the backpack containing all the basic medical supplies for emergencies. 

Just as she was about to reach for a pain-relieving potion, her legs began to spasm. Hermione let out a pained cry and threw herself backwards, desperately hoping for the burning pain to end. Twitching and shaking, Hermione grasped the potion bottle in one hand and shakily pulled the stopper off. Praying that this would somewhat ease her pain, Hermione brought the bottle to her lips and tipped it back, taking a large swallow.  
She was careful to leave a generous amount for tomorrow, which she desperately hoped she would live to see.  
As the pain potion began to work it’s magic, the burning sensation in her legs lessened and they stopped spasming. Closing her eyes, she drifted into an uneasy and restless sleep, hoping to survive the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Next chapter will be focused on Draco and Narcissa.  
> Feel free to leave a review and let me know what you thought.


	2. 23rd March 1998 - Draco

3.15pm 23rd March 1998

With a quiet pop, Draco apparated into his bedroom and flopped on his bed with a groan. He had been up for hours, and he was exhausted, achy and still had drops of blood on his clothes. He was lucky this time. It had been relatively easy to make excuses, as the Dark Lord had been overseas and it was only his parents at home.  
With a jolt, Draco sat up as he heard a faint scream coming from the West Wing of the manor. He shakily exhaled, that was the guest wing, he supposed his father had found yet another victim.  
Tossing his clothes on the floor, he limped into his bathroom and took out his wand muttering various healing spells under his breath. Thankfully, his injuries were only minor this time and it only took him about 10 minutes before he got into the shower and scrubbed the remaining blood off.

After almost an hour he returned to his room, and could once again hear screams from the West Wind of the manor. Surely his mother, who hated unnecessary violence, would have asked him to stop by now? Maybe not …Ever since he had been forced to take the mark, Narcissa had become more and more fragile. A once proud woman, she was now a shadow of her previous self. Narcissa now had a faint, but permanent tremor and she flinched at every loud noise. Draco had often seen her wandering around the house at night, and had occasionally woken to find her sitting on his bed, silently crying while stroking his hair. She had become a shell of who she once was.

Grabbing his wand, Draco called for his elf Maisy who appeared with a pop. “Oh, Master Draco is back! Maisy has been missing him.” Smiling, Draco gave the bubbly elf a pat on her head. “Maisy, where is Mistress Narcissa.” “Maisy is not knowing, Maisy has not seen Mistress since Master Draco left for his secret mission.” With alarm bells ringing, Draco dismissed Maisy who disappeared with a crack.

Wrenching open his door, Draco raced out of his room. With ever-increasing panic he began shouting for Narcissa as he hurried out of his wing and towards his mothers. There was no sign of his mother anywhere and Draco began to get more and more panicked. He knew now that his only remaining option was Lucius. After his stay in Azkaban, combined with the constant presence of the Dark Lord in his home, Lucius had become unhinged. Draco often heard him muttering to himself, and he had taken up a new hobby, torturing anyone who even slightly offended him. He had become so insane, that the Dark Lord had snapped his wand and prohibited him going anywhere except the manor. Now the only victims he was able to torture were those in the dungeons, or unsuspecting muggles who got too close to the fence.

Steeling himself, Draco pushed open the doors for the dining room, from which muffled screaming and sobbing could still be heard. When he entered, it was as though time stood still. Draco felt as though he had been petrified. He tasted bile in his mouth, and his eyes glazed over. This could not be happening. He knew Lucius was deranged, but never in his wildest dreams had he thought this could ever happen.  
Lying almost still on the floor, apart from the occasional twitch, was the person he loved most in this world, his mother. She had multiple wounds, which Draco guessed had been inflicted by both magical and muggle methods, and was almost completely covered in blood.  
Raising his eyes, he saw Lucius standing over her, his mother's wand in one hand, and Bellatrix’s cursed dagger in the other. Draco let out an animalistic roar and threw himself at Lucius. He had never felt rage like it and was filled with an overwhelming desire to punish the man who had brought such suffering on such a harmless and fragile woman.

In Draco’s anger and grief, he had forgotten about his wand as he rushed at his father. Draco was a skilful dueller, far superior to Lucius and looking back he knew that he could have easily taken the upper hand. However, the image of his mother on the floor was still burning in his brain as he threw himself at his father. With a flash of red light, and a burst of agony, Draco found himself on the floor, slightly dazed and most importantly wand-less. Unconcerned for his safety, Draco crawled across the floor to his mother, who only just seemed to have registered his presence. She stretched out her hand for him, and he gladly took it, lifting her head into his lap and stroking her hair. He knew now that his father had passed the place of no return, and he desperately tried to think of some sort of a solution. Hoping his father hadn’t warded the room, he called for Maisy, who appeared with a pop.  
Almost instantaneously, he saw big tears well in her eyes and she threw herself down and began banging her head on the floor shouting “Bad Maisy! Maisy has been letting Mistress Narcissa and Master Draco get hurt.” “Maisy, that’s enough!” Draco shouted. He couldn’t deal with an upset elf right now. He needed to get him and his mother to safety. “Maisy, can you get us out of here?” Draco asked her. She nodded vigorously, her large ears flopping eagerly.

In all his panic and worry about his mother, Draco had almost completely forgotten about his father. Looking up, he saw Lucius looking down at them, a manic grin forming on his face. “Well isn’t this nice,” he jeered. “My useless wife and wayward son, at my mercy!“ He continued to leer down at them, and it seemed as though he was coming up with some sort of plan. Grasping Draco’s wand in two hands he snapped it in half, and then using Narcissa’s wand (which he had taken from her) he warded the room against any more house-elves. “Maisy, I command you to come to my side immediately and cease helping your mistress.” The elf in question stared up at her master in both shock and fear. Draco knew how hard it would be for her to resist. Any great action of obedience against their master would result in a permanent loss of elfish magic.  
However, this did not seem to faze Maisy. She stayed resolutely by Draco and Narcissa’s side, her eyes wide and knobbly legs shaking slightly. “Maisy is not listening to the bad master as he is hurting Maisy’s beloved Mistress Narcissa.” She squeaked. 

In a roar of fury, there was a flash of light and Narcissa once again began to scream as the cruciatis curse was performed. Throwing himself on top of her, Draco took most of the curse and began to moan. He had been tortured often by the Dark Lord, and this was nothing in comparison. Despite this, it still felt as though everyone bone was being broken and his blood was on fire. However, the pain from the curse did not last long as Draco felt a sharp twist and heard a loud crack as he was sucked into space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops... Sorry to leave you on a cliffhanger.  
> Hermione's POV is up next.  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	3. 24th March 1998 - Hermione

7.30am 24th March 1998

Delightful bird song, bright sunlight and excruciating pain was what Hermione woke up to. She had a restless night sleep and judging by the scattered leaves around her she had experienced several seizures. Slowly sitting up, Hermione groaned in pain as every join of her body seemed to protest. Lifting her hand to the back of her head, Hermione felt something wet and when she drew it away she discovered that it was blood.  
She couldn’t remember being kicked there, but she had been in so much pain last night that she wasn’t surprised. Hermione ran her eyes down the rest of her body and tested each area for mobility and pain.  
Only now did she notice that her legs weren’t nearly as painful as last night. However, this relief quickly disappeared as she glanced down. During the night her legs had swelled to almost half their usual thickness and her feet were now an alarming blueish colour. She now realised that she could barely feel her feet and there was the occasional small twinge of pain on the upper part of her legs.

Looking around her, she grasped her purple bag and opened it , exposing the contents. Now that she had some light it was far easier to see the meagre medical supplies remaining. There were a few pain potions and only some basic medical equipment.  
Tipping the bag upside down a few bottles glass containers toppled out. She could see a half empty bottle of essence of dittany amongst various pain and sleeping potions, only really useful for ailments such as a headache. She had been halfway through cleaning out the bag when the snatchers arrived, and as a result the majority of her supplies had been burned down with the devastating fire.

Deciding not to dwell on what cannot be changed, Hermione uncorked the essence of dittany and with great care to use the bare minimum, she rubbed some on her swollen and numb feet. Realising that she desperately needed to get away from the area, in the chance that the snatchers return, she hastily repacked her bag and looked around for a large stick to use. Seeing one not 20m away, she slowly crawled over to it, bag over her shoulder. Using the thick wooden stick, about 2m tall she hoisted herself up and tentatively began to put weight on her painful swollen feet. Despite the pain, Hermione knew that she needed to get out of there. 

It was only now that she had a good look at the landscape around her. It was absolutely stunning. The sun was shining brightly through the trees which curved to make an arch over a path, leading off into the distance. Thousands of bluebells had sprouted either side of the path and Hermione could still hear birds chirping in the trees. She knew deep down that some sort of magic had occurred here, as she was certain that before this morning there had been no path and no bluebells anywhere.  
However, she was far too tired and pained to care that much. She hoped that the path may lead her somewhere safe, but if it didn’t … well she had a feeling she didn’t have much longer left anyway. 

2.30pm 24th March 1998

She had been walking for hours. Despite the cheerful and beautiful scenery, her feet where in agonising pain and Hermione wasn’t sure how much further she would be able to drag herself along.  
During the day she had been followed by dozens of gorgeous song birds, now though they had all disappeared and the surroundings were eerily quiet.  
At some point, about 10 minutes ago, it had felt as though she had passed through some kind of magical barrier. If this was the case, Hermione was hoping that whoever had put up the barrier was a friend rather than a foe.  
Hermione knew she should have been more cautious, however she was in so much pain that she was starting to feel slightly delirious. Although her feet where aching, she was starting to lose feeling in her legs, and her vision had become blurred.

Glancing up, Hermione saw perhaps the best thing she had seen in a while. Smoke coming from a chimney, the chimney of a very muggle looking cottage. No death eater would dare light a fire, let along the muggle way in a fireplace. In her excitement, Hermione had sped up her trek along path, eager to get to the cottage and towards food and water.  
She was desperately hoping it was an order safe house, as that would explain how she easily passed through the protective enchantments.

Stumbling down the path towards the cottage, she saw a slow flowing river to the left of the cottage, and more woods surrounding it. Just as she was about 50m from the little cottage, she felt her legs begin to twitch as her eyesight became so blurred that she was almost unable to see to cottage at all. Crying out, she fell to the ground in a heap, her feet throbbing as she began to seize. Hermione could feel blood oozing out of her head wound as she shrieked in pain. 

As her eyes closed Hermione could have sworn that she felt a bushy tail brush against her face and saw a streak of orange in the corner of her eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait...I have been quite busy. I'll try and keep updates more regular.  
> Let me know what you think!  
> Draco's POV next week


	4. 24th March 1998 - Draco

4:00 pm 23rd March 1998

With a pop, Draco, Narcissa and Maisy landed on a soft patch of grass. The quiet sounds of bird noise and slowly trickling water were interrupted by Draco’s piercing screams. 

Narcissa sat up quickly and looked around her. They were all lying in what looked like the front garden of a small, picturesque cottage. However her attention was quickly drawn to her dearest son who was writhing on the grass, screaming bloody murder. A pale and terrified elf was sitting beside him, clutching her ears, big wet drops of tears slipping down her face.

“Maisy has lost her magic. Maisy disobeyed the mean master and now Maisy has lost her magic!” Cried the inconsolable elf. “Maisy cannot do anything to help young master! Maisy is a bad, bad elf!” She shrieked. 

Ignoring her pitiful cries, Narcissa crawled over to her inconsolable son who was clawing at his left arm, his pale face contorted in pain. Shuffling closer, Narcissa ran a shaking hand through his hair, muttering soothing nothings trying to console her beloved son. “Draco dear, everything will be alright. Where are we, are we safe here?” Despite her worry for her son, she knew that they would be in far more danger if they had apparated straight into the front garden of a death eater, or a sympathiser. 

Clenching his teeth, Draco turned his head to Maisy, giving her a curt, pained nod. “Not to worry Mistress. This is Master Draco’s cottage, we is safe here!” 

Although surprised at this information, Narcissa pushed it to the back of her mind, and with shaking legs tried to stand. In an instant, Maisy was on her feet, her small hand steadying Narcissa as she, despite her violently shaking hands, was able to slowly stand. “Maisy, you must help me get Draco inside. If this is indeed his cottage, I imagine there will be various supplies inside that we may be able to use to reduce his pain.” 

Glancing down at her son, she blanched, seeing that he had grown impossibly paler. Draco’s hand and left forearm were soaked in blood, his right hand continuing to claw at the bloody mess. His legs were thrashing, and his eyes had almost rolled back into his head. Draco’s mouth was now open in a silent scream as tears rolled down his face. 

Motioning to Maisy, who was standing beside Draco, wringing her hands, Narcissa bent down to grab his thrashing legs. In an instant, Maisy had hold of his shoulders, and Draco was lifted off the ground. At the sudden movement, Draco let out a hoarse cry of pain and he was once again jostled. Narcissa grimaced at the sound of her sons pain, and Maisy’s eyes once again filled to the brim with tears.

At an agonisingly slow pace, Maisy and Narcissa managed to carry Draco to the front door. With a gentle nudge, the door swung open and Narcissa was greeted with an inviting, cosy front room. “Through there Mistress, we must lie Master on the table in the kitchen so that Maisy can heal him.” 

Following Maisy’s instruction, Draco was carried through the living area, into a bright, light filled kitchen space. A long wooden table was in the centre of the room, surrounded by a few chairs and positioned next to large windows, through which light spilled into the room. 

With a thud, Draco was deposited on the table, and almost immediately the table was stained with his dark thick blood, which continued to pour from his twitching arm. Draco was now a deathly pale colour, and was no longer thrashing around, but was instead slowly flickering in and out of consciousness, a stream of confused and jumbled words pouring out of his mouth. 

In the time that Narcissa had been staring at her son, a horrified expression on her face, Maisy had appeared at her side, arms full of various bottles all of which were neatly labelled with Draco’s slanting script.

“Mistress must sit so that Maisy can help young master” a voice piped, as Narcissa was pulled over to sit in a chair by the top of her sons head. She brought her trembling hands up to stroke his hair as Maisy unravelled Draco’s long fingers from the death grip he had around his left forearm.

As the wound was revealed, Narcissa let out a horrified gasp. What had once been healthy skin, covered by a dark mark, was now a bloody mess. The skin had started to dissolve, and what was now left was exposed bone, which was also beginning to fester and rot. 

Narcissa started as Draco spoke in a pained whisper. “Maisy, I order you to cut it off, you can’t let the infection spread, Maisy.” With a horrified expression on her face, Maisy let out a pitiful whine as she hurried into the kitchen, grabbing a sharp knife, as well as a handful of bottles from the cupboard.

“Are you sure this is the right thing to do dear, surely there is some other way to stop the infection.” Narcissa began to plead, however it was to no avail as Draco’s eyes rolled back into his head, his shaking stop, and an almost peaceful look stole over his face. “Master must be asleep for Maisy to heal him,” the little elf squeaked, her eyes wide as she set down the now empty potion vial, a determined look on her face.

“Mistress must look away, Maisy must not be interrupted.” Piped the elf as Narcissa resumed the stroking of Draco’s hair and face. With a sickening grinding noise, Maisy began the amputation, just below the elbow. Yet more blood poured out of his arm, as the bone was finally snapped off. Reaching for yet another potion bottle, Maisy poured a thick black substance over the wound, and the skin below his elbow began to sew itself back together.

Despite the closing of the wound, yet more blood poured from the closing wound. Shooting a worried glance at the elf, Narcissa asked, “Maisy, what’s going on.” “Maisy is not knowing, Maisy did it the way that Maisy was taught, but something is wrong.” 

“Show me the potion cupboard” Narcissa commanded. She was led over to a corner of the kitchen, to the entrance of a butler’s pantry that was stocked with almost every medical supply possible. Searching desperately, Narcissa pulled out a vial of Transversum secat sanguinem, and hurried over to her son, whose blood was continuing to pour out of his arm. With a quick slap on his face, Narcissa woke Draco once more.   
With a scream Draco awoke, and with shaking hands Narcissa began to pour the gold potion down his throat. “Ssh ssh, it’s okay love, it will all be over soon.”

“Stay with me Draco. It will be okay. You will be okay” Narcissa cool blue eyes, locked onto Draco’s terrified grey ones as he fought to swallow the potion. “Maisy, get me a dreamless sleep and a pain potion.” Narcissa instructed in a sharp voice. As Maisy hurried over, Narcissa lay Draco back down, and as the final potion was poured into his mouth, his eyes slowly shut as he drifted into what Narcissa hoped was a pain free sleep.

\---

As soon as Draco’s eyes closed, Narcissa collapsed into a chair. The adrenaline from the original incident has reduced her tremors, however they had now returned at full force. The shock of the afternoon, her husband torturing her in her living room, Draco torture, and now his amputation. Turning to face her son, she saw a bloodied stump, methodically being bandaged by Maisy, whose little fingers were still shaking with shock.

Shakily standing, Narcissa grasped onto the table. “Maisy, where are we?” 

“We are in Master Draco’s secret cottage”, tugging on her ears, she continued. “Master Draco is not telling Maisy where we is, Master Draco is only telling Maisy to take Mistress here if Master Draco dies… Maisy can sense Master Draco’s protective wards, we is safe here.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Narcissa looked around the room. Through the large windows, Narcissa could see a large garden, with a cobbled path that led down to a slowly flowing river. The kitchen they were in was a bright open space, the table Draco was occupying was in the centre. 

Near the entrance way was another wide open space, filled with large pillow covered seats. All the seats seemed to be facing the window, and a strange flat, black box. The stone-tiled floors were covered in colourful rugs. The whole set yp resulted in a delightful, light filled and comforting area.

With a start, Narcissa realised how different it was from Manor, where even Draco’s bedroom was cold and impersonal. While the manor was sterile and dark, this small cottage was filled with light and colour. Books lined the walls, and although it was impeccably tidy, it was warm and cosy. 

Glancing at Draco, Narcissa assured herself that he was still asleep and healing, and then sat down on the large armchair, facing Draco. With a heaving sigh, Narcissa curled up on the chair, draping a knitted blanket around herself as she tried to stop[ the tremors. 

Faintly she could hear Maisy clattering around in the kitchen, as her eyes slowly closed. The trauma of the day the day had finally caught up to her as she was finally overwhelmed with exhaustion as she slumped in the chair.

\---

9:00 am 24th March 1988

Sunlight streamed through the open windows as Maisy trotted around the kitchen. Narcissa sat up quickly as Draco let out a pained groan. Trying to stop the dizziness, Narcissa walked over to Draco, her frail body still trembling from the long torture. 

Draco’s eyes snapped open as Narcissa walked to his side. His left arm, which now ended just below the elbow was wrapped in clean bandages. The table, previously soaked with blood was now clean as were Draco’s clothes. Maisy stood by his side, eyes drooping as she watched over her master, exhausted. 

“Maisy, go get some rest, I can help Draco this morning.” Squeaking her thanks, Maisy wandered out of the room and into a small cupboard, gently closing the door behind her. 

“Draco dear, it’s alright.” Narcissa soothed her son as he began to properly wake up. Panicking, Draco sat bolt upright on the table, looking around the room. It was only then that Draco looked down to his left. With a horrified expression on his face, Draco examined his newly amputated arm, wincing as he prodded it.

“Are you alright mother, were you hurt!” Draco ran his eyes of Narcissa, looking for any injuries. He was unsurprised to see the shaking of her hands, however he was concerned to see that it had gotten worse. 

As Narcissa stood to get some salve for Draco’s arm, Draco was able to see that she was looking frailer than ever. Hoping that now they were safe, Narcissa might have some time to recover, Draco lay back on the table, wincing as he jostled his arm again.

Narcissa returned, and began to remove the bandages on Draco’s arm. Draco winced, sucking air through his teeth as he saw the bloody stump where his arm used to be. Although he was glad the dark mark was gone forever, he mourned the loss of his arm. He would have to essentially relearn how to do everything. 

As Narcissa began to apply the salve, Draco felt his arm numb as the nerves and skin slowly continued to heal. Glad that he had reapplied wards the last time he was at the cottage, Draco relaxed.

He was certain that nobody would find them here. The wards repelled muggles, and any witch or wizard with a dark mark, or an intent to harm. He would have to hope that the wards would last as there was now no way to reapply them, what with both Draco and Narcissa losing their wands, and Maisy losing her magic.

After Narcissa had finished with the salve, Draco sat up and looked around. Maisy had obviously done some cooking, and two bowls of porridge were now sitting on the kitchen island.

Draco swung his legs over the side of the table and Narcissa supported him as he stood on shaky legs. Draco could feel her shaking hands as she helped him stand, and resolved to get her to take some calming potion. 

Draco sat on one of the chairs facing the window as Narcissa brought the porridge bowls from the kitchen island. Picking up the spoon, he shakily brought it to his lips, frustration evident on his face. It was then that Narcissa remembered that Draco was left handed. 

Looking away, so as not to embarrass him, Narcissa stared out the window. “Draco dear, where are we?” 

Swallowing his mouthful, Draco stared out of the window for a long time. “I bought this cottage from an old muggle, about 18months ago. It’s about 1km away from Castle Combe, a small village about 100km from the Manor.”

Glancing at his mother, Draco continued “the house is heavily warded, blood magic amongst various other enchantments. It prevents those with the dark mark, or those with intent to harm from coming closer than 500m to the cottage.” 

Seeing Narcissa start to relax, Draco explained the surrounding area. “The house has one room downstairs, and two upstairs with the library.” Glancing at his mother once more, Draco took a large breath. “When I was sent on missions, I used to rescue whoever I could, once everyone had left, bring them here and heal them. I would then either put them in hiding, or obliviate them and create a new life for them.”

Noticing Narcissa’s shaking, Draco stood on unsteady feet as he continued his tale. “I used to come here between missions, a sort of respite from the war. It helped keep me stable and remind I was more than just a death eater.” 

Grabbing a calming potion from pantry, Draco walked back to Narcissa, his left arm cradled close to his body. 

Offering the bottle to Narcissa, Draco walked back over to the chair, settling down once again. 

“I had hoped that I could hide here after the war, hoped I would find a way to remove the mark. I guess I don’t need to worry about that anymore.” Draco glanced back at where his forearm used to be, his face tight, eyes clouded with emotion.

“Oh Draco” Narcissa reached out to her son. Smiling tightly, Draco placed his hand on hers. “Its alright mother. I know there was no other option… I’m just glad you got out safe. Draco noticed that here eyes had begun to droop as the calming potion, and tiredness from the previous day began to take effect.

Standing and offering his arm Draco headed towards the stairs. “I’ll show you more of the house tomorrow, but you must rest mother.” 

Slowly Draco and Narcissa ascended the stairs, Narcissa gripping the stair rail as she clutched onto Draco with the other hand. 

At the top of the stairs was a long hallway, and at the end was a floor to ceiling window that showed a beautiful view of the river. Draco led his mother to the first door on the right. 

“This is one of the two bedrooms upstairs. There is a small bathroom with a shower attached, and if you need anything, just band on the wall and Maisy or I will come.” 

Leading his mother over to the bed, Draco drew back the covers, still holding what was left of his left arm close to his body. Narcissa eased herself into the bed as Draco planted a kiss on her forehead.

“It will all be okay mother, we will be safe here. I promise on my life, that no harm will come to you again.”

Turning off the lights Draco backed out of the room as Narcissa’s eyes closed, and her face finally relaxed.

\---

2.40pm 24th March 1988

After putting Narcissa to bed, Draco had gone back downstairs. He had recharged his bandages and taken several more potions in an attempt to ease the pain and stop the throbbing.

Although the pain was slightly dulled now, Draco was still very tentative when moving, so as not to jostle his arm and cause unnecessary pain. After several failed attempts to sleep, Draco instead busied himself with various tasks around the cottage.

He checked on Maisy, and subsequently proceeded to check all the potions, ensuring there were enough. He then used some cloth from the linen cupboard to fashion a sling to keep his left arm close to his chest. He then lit a fire in the fireplace, and settled on the sofa.

Draco was about to go upstairs to check on Narcissa when he felt a ripple in the wards. 

As he had made them using blood magic, Draco was able to still feel disruptions on the boundaries, despite his lack of a wand. Although Draco was confident in the strength of his wards, he was still cautious when stepping out the front door.

Stepping onto the gravel path Draco glanced around the area, looking for any signs of disturbance. About to brush it off as a wayward animal, Draco turned to head back in when he heard a scream, not 50m from where he was standing.

Whipping around, Draco saw a small figure on the path, bushing brown hair around her head, leaning heavily on a stick. With a jolt of recognition, Draco watched in horror as the girl collapsed on the ground in a heap, and began to seize.

Rushing forward, Draco called for Maisy as he hurried towards the injured girl. As he reached her, Draco brushed aside the orange cat who lived at the cottage, who had been pawing at the girls mass of curls.

Lifting her head, Draco’s suspicions were confirmed. With a thudding heart he stared at the girl he hadn’t seen in almost two years - Hermione Granger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for such a late update. I am finally on holiday so I will be updating more regularly.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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